


Lightly Roasted, Freshly Ground

by kribban



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Protective Jim, Undercover, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kribban/pseuds/kribban
Summary: Jim and Leonard are working as undercover agents in a coffee shop on an alien world. Jim is enjoying himself, but Leonard is troubled.Slight language warning and warning for Jim flirting with customers.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7
Collections: Star Trek New Year Exchange 2021





	Lightly Roasted, Freshly Ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/gifts).



”Well,” Leonard thought bitterly to himself, ”At least I'm not getting shot at this time.”

He placed the used cups on the tray and walked towards the tiny kitchen. It was normal behavior for a coffee shop owner; nothing out of the ordinary at all. 

”To go, you say?” Jim asked the customer cheerfully, a little louder than what was usual for him.

The customer was female. A few years younger than Jim. Red hair. Canvas bag. Large, ornate earrings that jingled when she nodded.

Jim smiled brightly and warmly at her before turning around to fill her order. 

Leonard set his tray down on a nearby table, his hand already in his pocket.

”You need Andorian Skies for that one,” he said loudly, sliding up behind and next to the girl. He pointed towards the top shelf and her eyes followed the direction of his hand automatically, without interest. 

”This one?” Jim was reaching for the can while the instrument in Leonard's pocket finished vibrating.

”That's the one,” Leonard sighed and went back to his tray.

Jim popped his head inside the kitchen less than a minute later.

”I'm guessing that's not her,” he said with way less disappointment than Leonard would have liked. 

Leonard glared at the tricorder in his hand as though it was to blame for his predicament.

”What'd she order?”

”What?” Jim blinked as if he hadn't heard. ”Uh, de-caf Raktajino. Why?”

”I don't think Klingon spies drink de-caf, Jim,” Leonard muttered.

_A few days earlier..._

”Just use a tribble,” Scotty said and looked around the room. ”We're all thinking it, aren't we?”

”A tribble would be a good idea, in theory, Mr. Scott,” Jim said with a sigh, ”But since the... incident in San Fransisco, tribbles have been classified as a biological weapon, strictly off-limits for all Starfleet personnel.” He carefully avoided looking at Scotty. ”And I'm... inclined to agree with that decision.” 

”There _are_ key features of Klingon anatomy that no amount of cosmetic surgery can mask,” Leonard interjected, more than happy to steer the conversation away from the furry little devils. ”Heart rate, blood pressure, oh, and two sets of livers and an eight-chambered heart. Easy to pick up at close range with a medical tricorder.”

Jim seemed to ponder this. ”How close would you have to get to the target, Bones?”

”The person holding the tricorder would have to be within four feet from the individual being scanned.” Leonard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had an inkling of where this was going, and he didn't like it. Not one bit. ”Sickbay is well-equipped. We can easily lend the Narelsians a tricorder or two. Hell, they can keep them for all I care.”

There was a soft smile on Jim's face now. ”But they're not educated on reading the tricorder, nor do they have your expertise on Klingon physiology, Doctor.” He turned to Uhura. ”Lieutenant, what do you know of Narelsian cafés? Are they at all similar to ours?”

Uhura, to her credit, had an answer ready. ”With the proliferation of Federation culture to non-Federation worlds, Narelsia, like so many other planets, has a coffee shop or tea house in every city. At least one, that is.”

”Klingon coffee? Tarkalean tea?” Jim leaned back in his chair, looking pleased and smug like he always did when he got an idea he thought was bright.

”Same as everywhere else,” Uhura nodded. ”Why do you ask, Captain?”

Isn't that what we're all dying to know. Leonard thought.

”Narelsian Central Intelligence already knows the Klingon spy has been established in the capital and buys coffee regularly according to intercepted transmissions.” 

”If they know all that, why haven't they made a move to bring the spy in?” Leonard asked, already beginning to hate this spy for what he would be forced to do. 

”Or made a positive identification?” Uhura asked softly and her eyes widened slightly. ”Unless such a course of action would be perceived as an act of aggression towards the Empire.”

”Bingo,” Jim winked at her. ”We're already at war, -ish, with the Klingons, so the Narelsians would prefer if we handled it. Kept their name out of it.”

”Did their dirty work, you mean,” Leonard said bitterly and searched for something, anything he could use as a last straw. ”You've never been a barista, Jim.”

”I've been a bartender,” Jim said with a grin, ”It can't be _that_ different.”

Four days later, Leonard was already feeling nostalgic about previous away missions. Sure, they were usually bloody and dangerous, but blood, he could handle. Injuries he could handle.

Customer service, he could not.

The residents of the neighborhood were a rather bland mix of college-aged students and middle-class professionals, though how the students could afford the items on the menu, he didn't have a clue.

There were a few regulars; a group of three girls and one boy that came in together, a middle-aged man in glasses who always seemed to be pressed for time, a woman in her sixties who Leonard suspected only dropped by to flirt with Jim and who always left a hefty tip.

But most of the time; the customers dropped in once and never returned. 

The city was the transport hub of the region, so that wasn't strange, but Leonard didn't know if it made their job easier or harder. Maybe the spy had a particular coffee shop they preferred, and this wasn't it. Jim had given their little operation two weeks until the Enterprise had to leave for their next assignment. Two weeks of play-pretend in service profession hell seemed like an eternity for Leonard.

”Why do you have to smile so much?” Leonard asked when the door had shut on their latest customer. It came out sharper than he had intended. ”You don't actually need the tip.”

Jim let out a happy sigh and started refilling one of the jars with Mulgaran Spice. Somehow, the sickly sweet powder was used in many popular drinks. ”I might have missed my calling, Bones. This is a sweet gig! You get to meet lots of people, make their day a little better...”

”Flirt with young, beautiful women,” Leonard muttered. 

Jim just grinned in response. ”Besides, the drinks are fun. I kind of like making them. Please let me make you a Rigelian Bomb, Bones. You'll like it!”

”I think I'll pass,” Leonard muttered and joined Jim behind the counter. 

The one perk of having been lent this upscale establishment was that it had a decent food synthesizer. He selected a Turkey sandwich and started eating it the moment it had materialized. 

”You've got to admit,” Jim said, wiping his hands on a towel, ”This is not so bad. We're practically on vacation.”

Leonard's idea of a vacation was a good book and solitude, and Jim's idea... ”Aren't you a little overdressed for a vacation?” 

”Let's go to dinner tonight,” Jim pleaded, ”We'll have a couple of drinks, walk through the Old Town, down to the docks... It's going to be such clear skies that you can see the stars.”

A memory made Leonard's stomach clench and he forcefully shoved the plate back into the recycler. ”I'll stay in the hotel, thanks.”

The woman's eyes were hard as steel and her lips were pressed into a thin line. ”Excuse me, but I specifically asked for hazelnut powder, _not_ hazelnut crunch.” 

”We're unfortunately out of hazelnut powder, but I can replicate some for you,” Jim tried gently. ”Or I can make you anything else from our menu.” 

”If I wanted anything replicated,” the woman said sharply, her voice sounding brittle from the strain, ”I would have used my replicator instead of visiting your establishment. I would like my money back, please.”

Jim had a dark look on his face. He wasn't used to his charm not working, and from what Leonard had overheard, he'd used a considerable amount of charm to try to make this lady happy.

”Just have a Raktajino, Kalina,” the man accompanying her muttered. ”Today is far too important for you not to have had your coffee in the morning.” 

A colleague then, not a husband, unless he was in the unfortunate position to be both. 

The man certainly reminded Leonard of himself from those last couple of years with Jocelyn. Always expecting an outburst, constantly doing damage control.

”I can certainly make you a Raktajino,” Jim's smile was strained. ”Free of charge, of course.” 

Leonard's hand was in his pocket and he took a step towards the woman.

”You're bleeding again,” the man muttered under his breath and Leonard stopped, watching the woman take out a mirror from her handbag. The drop of blood on her lower lip was crimson, not lavender.

”Must be an important meeting,” Jim said softly and handed her a napkin.

The woman seemed shocked, but then she nodded slowly several times. ”A once in a lifetime opportunity has presented itself and if...” She glanced at her colleague, her whole demeanor different from a moment ago. ”If we don't present our case well, that opportunity will pass us by.” 

”I know what that's like,” Jim said, the strain replaced with sympathy. ”How about I make you a double Raktajino on the house?” 

The woman took a short, shuddering breath and smiled. ”That would be lovely, thank you.” 

Leonard was deleting data from old scans when Jim walked in. They'd been at this for a full week now and still hadn't found the spy. 

”See why I love this job?” Jim let out a whistle. ”That lady was prickly like a hedgehog when she came in, and mellow like jello when she left.” 

”You already have a job,” Leonard muttered. ”I thought you wanted to get back to it.” 

”Sure I do,” Jim continued, ”but I'm enjoying myself at the moment. What's wrong with that, Bones? It's a beautiful day, and –”

Leonard dropped the tricorder so hard on the table that it made a loud noise. ”You've got any idea what day it is, Jim?” He was angry and didn't feel like hiding it. ”Do you?” 

Jim swallowed nervously but didn't break eye contact. ”Of course, I do, Bones. Why do you think I volunteered you for this mission?”

Jim had... Leonard didn't know if he should laugh or cry. ”Shit, kid. I suppose that's sweet of you.”

Without saying another word, Jim walked over to where Leonard was sitting, pulled him up, and wrapped him in one of those crushing hugs that had been a staple of their Academy days.

The hug was firm and warm, everything Jim had proved himself to be. Leonard had never had a friend like Jim and they had met at the point in Leonard's life where he'd needed a friend the most. After all these years, Jim still had his back, and if Leonard was ever going to cry happy tears about something, it was that.

”I hate Raktajino,” he muttered when the emotion threatened to overwhelm him. ”And I fucking hate customers.”

Jim let him go and took a step back without being asked. He was awesome like that, never made Leonard feel crowded. ”So Jo is thirteen now, huh?”

Leonard nodded. It was the fifth birthday he hadn't been there for, and there would be at least five more. It was bizarre to be at the halfway point of regaining something you had lost and feeling like shit about it. 

”To be honest, kid, I hate myself most of all.”

”Don't,” Jim shook his head. ”Don't. You care enough to feel bad and trust me, that puts you above and beyond the crappy parent line. You sent her a message before we lost comm range.”

”God knows when she'll get it,” Leonard muttered, already feeling a bit better. ”Jim, I- One of the last times I saw her, we watched the Perseid meteor shower. There's a clearing in the woods about a mile from the house. It's far enough out that there's no light pollution, and the skies cleared up just in time.” 

He had brought a blanket and ice tea, and a pair of binoculars that hadn't been needed at all. Jo had counted twenty-three shooting stars and made a wish on each of them before she fell asleep and he had to carry her back to the house.

That was the last time he'd seen her happy in person, and it was probably why he hated the stars so much. 

”It sounds like a great memory,” Jim said softly and he had a fond expression on his face. ”It's a memory she'll treasure until she sees you again.” 

Leonard _would_ see Joanna again. In five years, she'd be an adult, and he'd made damn sure she knew he would be waiting for her, even if he was halfway across the galaxy by then.

”I suppose I should say it's the thought that counts, but goddamnit, Jim, I hate this coffeeshop crap.”

”Aww, it's just one more week, Bones,” Jim said with a grin. ”You'll be digging into people's guts in no ti–Holy shit!”

A young woman was standing by the table, her body hunched in on itself as though she knew she was intruding on something personal. ”I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you! Are you okay?”

She was stunningly beautiful, if a bit on the shrieking violet side, but Leonard knew Jim had a role to play for every occasion. His transition into customer service mode was seamless and would have gone unnoticed by anyone but Leonard.

”You startled me, but I'm feeling better already. How can I be of service?” 

The woman's smile was more sweet than nervous as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ”I'm sorry to intrude, but there is no one behind the counter, and I'm in desperate need of a caffeine fix.” 

”Oh that's an emergency, all right,” Jim said cheerfully. ”Luckily, I'm just the man you need.” He took the woman by the arm in a way that was decidedly unprofessional but would no doubt earn him a hefty tip.

Once the two of them were out of eyesight, Leonard picked up the tricorder to put it back in its faux-leather case, but his attention was caught by the screen. There was a new recording, taken automatically through some function he must have activated by accident. 

The results were plainly stated; blood pressure, liver, lungs, heart. He stared at the data for a minute longer, his heart racing.

Spock sent a security detail who discreetly apprehended the Klingon spy and escorted her to the Enterprise brig where she would stay until they reached Federation authorities.

Jim and Leonard gave the keys to the coffeehouse back to the real owners, checked out of their hotel room, and took a leisurely stroll towards the beam-out point.

The sun was setting, and Leonard had to admit that the city was appealing; a mixture of architectural styles with plenty of green spaces and parks sparsed throughout. It wasn't all that different from some of the cities he'd visited back home. 

Jim's mood had dampened a bit. He'd been beaming from ear to ear when the Narelsian high chancellor had personally called to offer his humble thanks, but now he looked unsure of himself. ”You think we would have caught her if she hadn't walked in on us?” 

”Naw,” Leonard said. ”There's no way you would have flagged her, and I only scanned the people you flagged.”

”She ordered a Caramel Frappuccino,” Jim replied, a bit of whine sneaking into his voice. ”And she was cute. Real cute. I guess I don't read people as well as I thought I did.” 

In the end, the great Starship Captain and wannabe secret agent had been fooled by a lady's charm. It was almost endearing. ”Don't worry about it, kid, spies are trained to fool you. She fooled me too.”

Jim nodded but then he heaved a sigh that seemed to shake his whole body. ”I'm sorry I dragged you into this. Bones. I should have known you'd hate it.”

”It wasn't that bad.” 

Maybe it was the fact that it was over that made Leonard feel a bit more generous. He would be sleeping in his own bed tonight, and, damn if he wasn't looking forward to it. There might be a message from Jo waiting for him, and if there wasn't, he'd be all right. 

Or maybe, he thought and clapped Jim on the shoulder, it was the thought that counted.


End file.
